


The Record

by lynch



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Gallavich, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynch/pseuds/lynch





	The Record

Sometimes Ian and Mickey go out together. Not for groceries and not for a drink at the Alibi, but for a purposeless walk. They grab some beer and a pack of Marlboros and they're good to go. Sometimes they race on their way back and it's a hell of a race, because usually, there's a prize for the winner.

One moment, Ian brushes the snowflakes out of Mickey's dark hair and he smiles at how tame Mickey is; He would have broken all of his fingers for that a few months ago. The next one, Mickey's face lights up with a wicked grin and Ian's pretty sure he knows what's up.

"Winner gets dinner," Mickey shouts and breaks into a sprint.

Ian doesn't follow immediately. He takes his time throwing his beer in a trash can. He captures how Mickey's feet ruthlessly hit the sidewalk, how his hands are curled into fists, how his pants are likely to drop to the ground if he doesn't give them a pull every now and then and how he turns around to check where Ian's at. Then, he starts running after Mickey, back arched and arms tight on his sides. 

The wind tears his eyes up and bites at his bare neck, but eventually, he catches up with Mickey.  Arms tangle, people stop to shout at them and the lights turn on in every house they run past. They run shoulder to shoulder for a while and Ian says, "How about a hummer?" Dinner was getting old. Ian skips left to avoid hitting a streetlight.

Mickey seems to like his idea, because he turns around with a smile that says, "Hell, yeah." At that moment, Ian starts to shout a warning, but Mickey doesn't catch its meaning until after he's crashed into a stranger and both of them have hit the ground.

Ian rushes to help Mickey up and see if he's okay, but he turns down his help and gets up on his own, dusting his pants off. 

"Watch your fucking step," Mickey hisses at the guy, who's still sitting on the ground.

Next to him, there's a carton box full of cassettes, CDs and records, with its contents half-spilled across the sidewalk. Ian starts to pick them up and drop them in the box,  but the man doesn't welcome his politeness. 

"The fuck you touching my stuff for?" He shouts at Ian and starts collecting his things, almost manically.

"He's just trying to help, asshole," Mickey snaps at the man. When he doesn't respond, Mickey decides that the man's not worth Ian's help. He pulls at Ian's arm, "Come on, just leave it."

But Ian's not paying attention. Instead, he's got his eyes stuck on the record in his hands, as if the colorful swirls on it have hypnotized him. His hands start to shake when he reads the title. Only after the man snatches the record out of his hands does he look back up at Mickey. 

"The fuck, man? Let's go," Mickey gets a hold of his arm and pulls him away from the scene. 

After they've walked a few feet away from the man's sight, Mickey asks Ian, "What was that about?"

And Ian doesn't really know how to tell him. The colorful record he was holding was one of the pieces from Monica's psychedelic music collection. Sometimes, when she was actually home, she'd put it on and tell Ian how special the album was. It's one of the few good memories he's got with Monica, even though she might have been high at the moment. He tries not to sound too melancholic when he tells Mickey that the record reminded him of his mother and made him happy for some reason.

* * *

When Ian wakes up, he realizes that Mickey's not next to him and that he's been hugging his pillow all along. He hears the morning noise coming from the kitchen, people slamming doors shut, throwing empty cups of coffee in the sink, yelling at Carl to stop microwaving pets, arguing over who gets to shower next and who gets to wear which sweater. 

Slowly, he pushes himself out of his bed and puts on the first pair of pants he lays his hands on. When he comes downstairs, Debbie and Carl are storming through the door and the only person left in the house is Mickey. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead and he smells like Ian's shampoo. Ian wants every morning to be like this.

On the table, there's a cup of warm coffee waiting for him. Steam rises from it and Ian's eager to get a taste of it, but something catches him off guard. Next to the coffee, there's something Ian recognizes all too well.

"What's that for?" he asks.

Mickey suddenly turns horrified. "Wait," he says, "you don't like it?" 

He picks the vinyl record up and gives it the same nostalgic look he had when he first saw it that week. The pastel colored album cover and the cloud-shaped letters that read  _Sweet Smoke - Just A Poke_  brought back memories of Monica cradling his head in her lap and talking nonsense, broken down sentences that didn't have a meaning, but they were still soothing to listen to.

The fact that Mickey was thoughtful enough to get that for him warms Ian's heart and forces his lips into a smile. Mickey Milkovich, the boy whose knuckles read  _fuck u-up_  thought that Ian would like to have something that reminds him of his mother. Mickey Milkovich is capable of being a thoughtful and caring boyfriend. It just takes him a while to get used to it.

Mickey feels dumb and sheepish. He's afraid that maybe, Ian doesn't want anything to do with his mother. Maybe he doesn't want to be reminded of her. There are a couple of reasons why he keeps avoiding all of the sappy couple stuff and one of them is the fact that he sucks at it. "If you don't want it I can give it to Mandy," he says. "Whatever. Fuck, I mean, I didn't mean to, you know, your mom. I-"

"Mickey," Ian interrupts him.

But he doesn't stop. "I just thought you looked like... Like you really wanted to have it." He does that thing when he bites his lip for lack of anything to say and stares somewhere behind Ian, afraid to see Ian's reaction. This is the first thing he's ever gotten for Ian. He wanted it to be special, not painful. Maybe he's got it all wrong. Maybe he'll never learn how to properly show affection.

"So," Ian smiles, "you went and bought it for me?"

 _Bought_ is not the first word that comes to Mickey's mind. "Sort of," he says, making it clear to both of them that he actually stole it.  "But you don't have to ke-"

"I'm keeping it, Mickey," he steadies him with a hand on his neck, "I love it."

That's all it takes for Ian to wash the tension off Mickey's shoulders. His relief is ridiculously palpable. Ian leans down to give him a kiss before he sits down and sips the coffee Mickey made for him. 

 


End file.
